The Past isn't Always Better Left the Past
by phfatbeatrice
Summary: This property brought back such waves of emotions that Stanford Pines had nearly long forgotten while on his inter-dimensional travels. It reminded him of the errors in his judgement, the lives he risked, the dangers he put himself in. All of these things led him back to his supposed healthy mindset back then.


It had been nearly three decades since he had last seen the house he was sitting in now.

This property brought back such waves of emotions that Stanford Pines had nearly long forgotten while on his inter-dimensional travels. It reminded him of the errors in his judgement, the lives he risked, the dangers he put himself in. All of these things led him back to his supposed healthy mindset back then. He had become an expert at covering his emotion, to the point that even he wasn't sure what was real or acting.

After Fiddleford left him, Ford had really lost himself. His paranoia and fear of Bill took over his daily activities. While brilliance could leave him wise, the knowledge that came with it was damaging. He hadn't done things he was proud of before contacting his brother. In fact, those things he hated himself for were part of why he contacted Stanley in the first place.

Thinking back on those times, before being over-exposed to just how sensitive humans were, Ford was really sick emotionally. He sat in the dining room, the sun not even up yet, letting his fingertips brush over scar after vertical scar on his right wrist. He was thinking about everything that had happened in his relatively long life. If he had died that night, the night he tried to kill himself, he would have never met Shermie's grandkids. He wouldn't have met Mabel or Dipper. He wouldn't have rekindled some type of relationship with his brother. While everything was still rocky on this side, things were looking up.

Ford remembered the night he had made the marks on his wrists. He had been suffering from hallucinations of Bill invading his body and mind, feeling absolutely mad for it all. In a last stitch effort to evade the being, Ford decided he could just end himself. He hadn't been the great scientist everyone expected him to be anyway. He was losing his mind like most great scientists did. Ending his life would be a blessing to everyone who had, or ever would, come into contact with him. He was nothing but trouble, a weirdness magnet much like Gravity Falls.

He dug a razor deep into his skin, dragging the blade vertically down his wrist towards his elbow. He wanted to bleed out. He repeated the action a few more times before weakly echoing it on his left wrist, his right hand already weak from the damage. After that, he simply leaned back at that very table and let his blood drip out of his body. He had lost consciousness and was asleep for a while, maybe a day. When Ford woke up, his was in great pain and his wrists burned from the wounds gaping the way they were. He was disappointed in his failure at suicide but it was a sobering experience. It practically gave him the idea that something wanted him to stay, keep studying... Which was when he decided to reach out to his brother, Stanley.

Ford let his eyes study those deep scars and the much shallower ones around his smallest finger on his left hand where he had tried to amputate his extra finger in middle school. Thinking on it now, it seemed inconvenient. Having six fingers definitely had its perks. However, in middle school, he was ridiculed and isolated for his two extra fingers.

He was lost in thought over his cup of tea when his brother came in. Ford had two fingers resting over the deep scars on his wrist, one touching the shallow scar of the injury he causes of his small finger.

"Ford?" Stan spoke after a moment of realising his brother really hadn't noticed him. Personally, Stanley knew nothing of Ford's suicide attempt. In fact, the scars seemed pretty shocking. He knew about the incident with his fingers though because he had been the one to tell their parents after finding his brother with a kitchen knife, pressing it against the digit.

The man sitting at the table blinked before looking at his brother and pulling down his sleeves in one swift moment. "Oh, Stanley. What are you doing up so early?"

"I could ask the same." Stan shot back as he started a pot of coffee. "When did you try to kill yourself?" Stanley wasn't one to beat around the bush. If he wanted to say something, he would. It was a skill he definitely learned with age.

Ford frowned deeply before sipping his tea for a moment. "I," he cleared his throat before continuing. "I tried right before contacting you. I had made a lot of mistakes in my life at that point, not to mention / _Bill_ /. It was all whelming for my, at the time, feeble mind. My calm composure and collective mindset were things I had taken pride in and because of many things here in Gravity Falls I was losing those things." He spoke, rubbing the cuff of his sweater just a little as he spoke.

"You weren't calm and composed when I came here, haha." Stan said, almost dryly. He didn't handle serious stuff very well, so his take was to shine humour even though suicide was never a laughing matter.

"No, I wasn't. If I had been in my right mind, maybe thing might have ended differently for me, for us." Ford said, looking deeply into his tea. He hadn't really kept eye contact since he began talking about this.

Stan poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the seat adjacent to his brother. "So when I came here... How long had it been since you, uh, tried?"

"About 2 weeks. I had bandages on my arms at that time." Ford spoke, finally looking up at Stan. "To be honest, I believed I was losing my mind. I had witnessed what had become of Fiddleford in just a brief amount of time and I was certain I was going down a similar path."

Stan was the one to avert his eyes. Keeping eye contact with a serious subject like this seemed impossible. "Then I pushed you into the portal..."

Ford nodded a little, not saying anything for a long moment. He finally let out a small breath. "I think being introduced to inter-dimensional travel at that time was the best for my mind. I honestly felt safe from Bill Cipher, I learned more about the human minds and other creatures' perspectives towards humans... While the overall experience is not something I would relive, I wouldn't change it."

Stan let out a small chuckle, "So in some weird fucked up way, I helped you?"

"Stanley, you always twist these things to be about you, but if you insist to think of it that way; yes, you indirectly and unintentionally saved me from myself by shoving me that day." Ford said, taking a sip of his tea.

Stan looked at his brother for a long moment. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for breaking your project in high school. I'm sorry for showing up and immediately losing my shit. I'm sorry for messing everything up with Bill by being my stubborn self."

"Thinking more clearly now, I know why you were so angry at me when I invited you here and then requested you take my journal far away. I wasn't thinking rationally and hadn't considered your feelings when requesting this. I just wanted the ability to activate the portal to be impossible." Ford spoke calmly. "Not to mention, if you hadn't broken my project, who knows what would have happened. We probably wouldn't be here in Gravity Falls, Oregon, talking over our morning drinks."

Stan shrugged a little. If his brother had gotten into that college, maybe there wouldn't have been so much conflict. Maybe he wouldn't have ever started scamming people for money. Maybe things would have been more pleasant for the two of them.

"Don't be hard on yourself. We are who we are because of cascading events in our lives. I might have become some snooty doctor or something had I not lost that opportunity. Now, in the position I am in, I wouldn't want that." Ford said, glancing at his brother. "We all make mistakes. While I am still angry at you for risking everything to save me, it means a lot. More than you can begin to imagine."

"That's, uh, good to hear. I'm glad I did something sorta right." Stan said with a shrug. He let out a small sigh.

"Anyway, why are you even up, Stanley? It's only 5:32 am." Ford said, reading his wristwatch for the exact time.

"I was, I was thinking about Mabel and Dipper and how they'll be leaving soon and..." Stan let out a heavy sigh, "it's weird to say it but I'm going to miss being Mr. Mystery." He said before deciding to throw out humour, "It is the longest running job I've ever held after all, haha." Once again the laugh was pretty dry and forced.

Ford frowned. He needed to get back to research. After all, he had so many discoveries that needed to be published. He was certain he couldn't research properly with the mess of the "Mystery Shack" going on upstairs. "We'll figure something out. Need money somehow I suppose." Ford said. This wasn't necessarily an invitation for Stan to keep the Shack open but maybe they could figure something out amongst the both of them.

Stan nodded as he sipped his coffee. "This has been a good talk." He said softly, looking at his mug. "We haven't really had a heart to heart in a while." He spoke, his voice a little bit of a mumble.

Ford nodded, "it has been a very long time." He said. He finished his glass of tea and pushed himself up. "I'm going back downstairs to work on my research." He announced before patting Stan's shoulder. He put his cup in the sink before leaving the dining room. He let his fingers brush over the marks on his wrist again as he started out to the vending machine door.

Stan stared at his coffee for a long time. He hadn't really understood anything that happened during their encounter thirty years ago. Knowing that his brother was paranoid and had recently attempted suicide really changed his view of the whole situation. He was honestly a really horrible brother to not have noticed. Maybe they weren't close but they were still twins. He should have picked up on something. He took one more drink of his coffee before he decided to go back to his room. Maybe he needed to try and sleep some more. He could use this time to really take in the words his brother had spoken earlier and retained it.

Stan got up from the table and washed out the two cups before walking himself back to his room and laying down on his bed, looking at his regular five fingered hand. He knew that he could never truly understand a lot about his brother. With his disfigurement and his brilliance, Ford was special in a way that Stan would never comprehend. That fact alone made Stan feel even worse about his reaction that day thirty years ago. He should have been more understanding. After all, just the fact that his brother had holed himself up in a cabin in the deep part of the woods in an unknown town in Oregon should have tipped Stan off that he wasn't really okay.

More than hour past before the man fell asleep, still thinking about his brother and the heavy confession he had gotten just an hour before. All he wanted was to mend things between them now that he knew just how bad off Ford had been. The fact that his brother could have died without Stan having seen him in ten years... That thought would probably haunt the man to his death.


End file.
